You can stop wondering. I'm alive.

A few people keep up with me via my blog, and when I don't post for a while, they wonder what's up. At least, I hope they do. I feel like I haven't blogged in a long time, but maybe that's just my time perception playing tricks on me. I'm so immersed in writing Chapter 4 of my dissertation, I am losing track of reality. I suppose that is normal when one is writing something rather large and long. Large and long. Is that best I can do? I'd like to wax poetic. (Is that the right cliche? I don't wax anything. I don't dust, I don't vacuum, I don't wax... another story.) I'd like to wax poetic about how great this paper is going to be. And it might be... my Chair called the first draft of this chapter “fantastic,” which is nice to hear, but she says that about other things, too, so I am not getting too excited just yet.

I had all kinds of things I was going to update you on. I am behind on my whining. I have a backlog of complaints, beginning and ending with the weather (which sucks). But now, other than the weather, I can't remember anything on my list of complaints. That doesn't mean I don't have a litany of troubles to share, but my brain is so fried after a day of writing, snacking, writing, napping, writing, petting the cat, writing... honestly I'm exhausted. I can't remember what I'm mad about. It's a wonder I can type.

You know what it is? It's an epic battle between my right brain and my left brain. One side is focused on content. The other side is focused on format. The two halves do not play well together. You might say, well, Carol, why don't you write the content, and then format it? Hey, great idea. And that's how I end up with holes everywhere. You can call it white space if you are feeling generous. I'm pushing the boundaries of APA, I'll tell you. Tables that cross pages! There's no other way, not if I want to keep the font at least 10 point. Or distribute magnifying glasses with every copy. And to make matters a little more interesting, my Chair said figures need to have a title at the top. Nuh-uh, girlfriend. The caption serves as the title, look it up.

Now I'm getting warmed up. Starting to feel my blood start to steam a little, feeling that old familiar ire rising up my... no wait, that's just acid reflux. I still can't feel my feet, though. It's cold down near the floor. I've got my rice-filled foot warmer ready to heat up in the microwave as soon as I move to the TV area of the Love Shack. I haven't had dinner yet. It's sort of too late for such a pedestrian event. I wish I had some ice cream. But I don't eat that seductive poison anymore. I had another food-related migraine yesterday, my second this week. Hummus from the health food section at the grocery store. Five ingredients, I thought I'd be safe. Nope. You'd think I'd be skinnier, considering what I don't eat. But of course, that would be ignoring what I do eat, which is a lot. Vegetables and eggs. Salad and chicken or fish. Apples and almond butter. That's it. In large quantities, twice a day.

Oh, and I'm drinking coffee again. Cold, and bitter, the way I like my... never mind, old joke. I'm up to two cups a day. I don't drink it all, I just use the brewing time to think. I'm really not myself. Friends who dare to call have met my dark side. I blame the coffee. I haven't been out of the house at all today. I hear the rain intermittently pounding the pavement. I don't want to look. Now it's almost ten. I've done a good job of whining while bringing you up to date, don't you think? Now I need to search for a drawing that somehow encapsulates the essence of this day's whine. Then I can go eat my apple and watch TV and forget about this paper until tomorrow, when I will get up and do it all over again. Until it's done.